Three Peaks of Somerset

On Sunday, 15th February, a group of us are having a go at the Three Peaks Route that starts in Chew Magna. I made the mistake of calling it the Three Peaks of Somerset to differentiate it form other Three Peaks challenges involving Ben Nevis etc. It was promptly pointed out that the Three Peaks of Somerset ought to be Dunkery Beacon on Exmoor, Wills Neck in the Quantocks and Beacon Batch on the Mendips.

Various point of view have been bandied about as to the best way of accomplishing such a challenge.

Originally, I though that it would be best to start at Porlock to attack Dunkery Beacon, but on reflection, it would be easier to start at Exford, in the heart of Exmoor, which has a car park, a hostel and two pubs.

From Exford, you could follow the Samaritans Way Southwest up onto Exford Common and then switch onto the Macmillan Way West to Dunkery Beacon and on to Dunster – why reinvent the wheeel? The Macmillan Way from here to Wills Neck looks very complicated, so I think it would be easier to cut down through Marsh Street to the coast and follow the coast path to Watchet. Then you could follow the road through Doniford and on up to Beacon Hill and Wills Neck.

From Wills Neck, the Samaritan’s Way provides the quickest route through Goathurst and Bridgwater to Chedzoy and the brisge over the King’s Sedgemoor Drain at Parchey

The next obstacles are the Huntspill River and the River Brue. There is rather a lot of tarmac on the next stretch, but I thik the best route goes through Stawell and Chilton Polden then across Chilton Moor to River House Farm, where there is a crossing over the Brue. Then there are roads and paths to take you through Westham and Blackford onto a bridle path that goes round West Stoughton to Ashton, Chapel Allerton and Stone Allerton, where there is a path down to Weare.

From here, the easiest option is the more easterly of the pairs of bridges over the Axe and the Cheddar Yeo. and then Stubbington Drove and Middle Moor will take you into the outsj=kirts of Cheddar. There is then a route through Barrows that leads to the bridle path round Batts Combe Quarry that leads to Warrens Hill Road and Tynings Farm – well known to all who have done the Mendip Muddle.

From Tynings Farm, there is an obvious route to Beacon Batch, from which there are several routes Down to Blagdon.

It’s about 60 miles if anybody’s interested!

It’ all a blur

Just read the following in Alex James’ Column in yesterday’s Independent:

No distance to run in the country

Run! Run! alone over open fields, all through the wooded hillsides, in secret along the narrowest trails, badger roads and deer tracks, half-dodging wet, scratching brambles, ducking branches. Leaping and swerving over dead tree trunks, with startled squirrels and scattering rabbits springing from nowhere. Dawn, dusk, noon, under the Moon and stars, run as far as you can. Run like the wind, run when it’s raining, run in the sun. Run, run, run – pnanting, blowing, steaming through the cool, soft greys and greens. Run for an hour, run for miles, without seeing anybody, heart pounding, flying weightless downhill, feet crashing through puddles, splattering the fluffy, caressing mud, careless and carefree. Free at last, exhilarated by body whirring at capacity, on limits, singing. There is nothing else: no distractions, just the steady rhythms, absolutes, of breath, heart and hypnotic footfall beating, one two, one, two…

There are no fat bass players of any significance.

The Rising Sun

We did a bit of the Green Man Challenge route from the Rising Sun at Pensford last Thursday. I was hoping Turtle would turn up as he got lost on this route last year and I thought he might enjoy it better this time. As it happened, he was on baby-sitting duty so there were just the six of us, half being Woodwoses.

The pub is a bit more down market than the George and Dragon on the other side of the Wells Road; but the parking is infinitely better.

The planned route was a version of “The Caterpillar,” which is described among the free-shorter routes on the Closer to the Countryside website (www.closertothecountryside.co.uk ). I would have included it my first walk book, but there is a section of the original route from the Whitchurch Sports Centre that has been erased by a farmer, which he can get away with due to the negligence of past councils. However, it works really well from Pensford, if you don’t mind a bit of climbing on minor roads.

We started by following the Community Path across the fields to Publow and then took off up the hill towards Charlton Field and then took off across the fields towards Blackrock, which involved a bit of a paddle up a stream. Another hillclimb on the road took us up Hursley Hill to the A37.

From there we went through a series of flat buy wet firlds, past a garden nursery to Whitchurch. We negotiated the Dundry Hill housing estate to get to another sharp climb up East Dundry Lane, which leads to the footpath folowing the contour through the fields to Maes Knoll.

This iron age hill fort offers quite splendid views across Bristol on one side and Chew Valley on the other; but on this night, the ferocious winds cured the inadequately dressed of their ability to appreciate such things and they descended as if they had been blown off the hill. Unfortunately, the two Woodwoses who knew the way were dawdling at the back, so the hasty ones overshot the footpath down and had to climb back up about 90 metres to get back on track.

The cross country route back to the pub through Norton Malreward was negotiated without further incident, but I did notice Woodwose 1 looking askance at the slightly off-right-of-way path we took down to the river! As we arrived back at the pub, my Garmin registered 7 miles exactly, but it would have been slightly less if we hadn’t gone back to look for the hast ones on Maes Knoll.

The Rising Sun was sufficiently cosy and friendly and there was a choice between well kept Bath Ales’ Gem or Thatchers’ Cider. We managed to find a table that would accommodate the six of us and a good time was had by all.

The Grizzly – over the hill?

The awesome Grizzly used to be one of my all-time favourite races. The course, starting in Seaton on the southest coast of Devon, can be anything up to twenty miles long and winds across the shingle, along the coast path up steepsided, wooded valleys, through streams and knee-deep black mud, more hundreds of metres of shingle, up a winding path up a cliff and across the grassy cliff-top path, which offers spectacular views of the shingle beach leading to the finish on the esplanade two miles below.

The race is a community affair and all sorts of people participate in the organisation. There were pipers on the hills and bands of all kinds at strategic points, including a folk band and a folk duo and  a drum band in a barn booming out across the hills.

Out on the course, everything was as I remembered it, except my ability to cover the terrain, which rather got in the way of my appreciation of the Kantian and Taoist jokes and Buddhist shrines along the route. At the pace I started, I used to pick people off as the race progressed. But this time I had to look on as fat old men and young girls hurried past me in the later stages. In my late fifties, I am definitely over the hill, and it was silly to suppose thatI would find it easy, just because I had managed to complete the 45-mile Green Man Challenge a few weeks before. As my much younger Green Man partner, Peter DeBoer, remarked it is whole different thing – and he too suffered in the last three miles (although he was way ahead of me!)

But at over 20-years old,the Grizzly too is showing its age. In the past, the race had the use of a holiday centre with a big hall, in which the participants could meet up before the race and could congregate afterwards to exchange experiences and wait for the prize-giving.

Now all that has gone. The only group of runners that were able to pose for a pre-race team photo were the Axe Valley Runners who organise the race. Members of other clubs, who I happened to bump into at the start and on the course, had no idea whether other members with entries had actually made it to the race. In the absence of a proper gathering place afterwards it would have been impossible to find out afterwards either. 

I found the post-race experience a let-down, a definite anti-climax. It could have been better if a hail storm hadn’t driven everyone into the surrounding pubs, restaurants and cafes shortly before I finished. But this year’s perfunctory Grizzly T-shirt was definitely below the standard that had been set by earlier models and the organisers cannot possibly rely of fine weather at the beginning of March for a satisfying end to the Grizzly experience.

The Meaning of the Green Man

As I crossed the bridge towards the setting sun, there were tears in my eyes. I had done it!

True, I had set the challenge in the first place, but, until that moment, I had no idea that I could do it. I though I would keep Pete and Mike company for a bit over half the 45-mile run and then fade away to  let them finish without me. But Mike had to drop out because of a cold, and there I was, nine and a half hours after we had set off from the Dovecote in the frosty dawn, jogging across the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

The pink sky over Dundry Down looked the same as it had at 7-15am, but this time it reflected the glory of the sun setting behind the trees of Leigh Woods and Ashton Court.

I had already imbued the westward crossing over the Avon Gorge with special significance in the first chapter of my new book (‘Around Bristol, Off-Road, On Foot – Beyond the Urban Fringe’ – it should be in the shops by April). There, I linked it with the meeting between the hermit sage, Lao Tzu and the Keeper of the Pass, who persuaded Lao Tzu to write down his thoughts in the Tao Te Ching before he passed over the western mountains on his way out of China.

Now the bridge had personal significance for me as it took me on the returning path past the Green Man to the Dovecote.

But what did it all mean after the euphoria had passed and the pain and the stiffness had subsided?

By coincidence, before my legs had recovered, I had to drag my self to the solicitors to discuss my will, and I was inspired to send off for ‘The Natural Death Handbook’, which arrived almost immediately. This proved an amazingly positive book, including all you need to know about green funerals and an injunction -

‘Live each day as though it were your last.’

Perhaps that is the meaning of the Green Man with the tendrils of a tree growing from his mouth – accept death and, in the light of its inevitability, achieve what you can, whilst you can.

HIGH POINTS

Town and Country Harriers seems to appeal to people who like a challenge.

One of the founder members of TACH, Tony Robinson, who has moved on to pastures new in deepest Somerset, visited the highest point of every county of England in 2007.

For details of this achievement, visit http://web.mac.com/euphrasian/iWeb/highpoints

Green Man Record Smashed

Ex-TACH member, Mark Vogan, snuck down from Glossopdale Harriers to smash Chris Smart’s Green Man record on Christmas Eve.

Chris established a record of 11hrs and 38 mins on Sunday 30th September 2007. We all thought that was a remarkable achievement, but we all thought it was do-able, maybe. But fell-runner, Mark, has beaten us all to the punch.

He started in the dark at 6-25am on Christmas Eve from the Blaise Estate car-park – the thinking being that it would be a good idea to get the climb up Mariners’ Walk out of the way, and to make the most of the street lighting. The timing was good and he was able to turn off his headtorch as he reached the end of the first leg at the Green Man at about 7-30. There was a full moon behind him as he descended the deer park with the beginnings of a glorious sunrise peeping over Dundry Ridge.

Mark was fresh as a daisy when I met him at the end of the second leg at the Dundry car-park with a banana and some of Sue Baic’s patent isotonic brew. I relieved him of his head torch and  told him where he could pick up refreshments in Pensford and Keynsham.

I met Mark again at the end of the fifth leg on Shortwood Hill. We had agreed that this was the best place for me to join him, when he would have done the equivalent of a marathon, the furthest he had ever run before. I was taken there by Mark’s wife, Sarah and we scanned the distance looking for his expected arrival. I gave him a call on his mobile and he was soon seen bouncing over the grass towards the end of the fifth leg. It was about 12-30, and he looked in good nick, so it seemed as if Chris Smart’s record was there for the taking, provided that Mark could complete three more legs.

Mark changed his top and his socks and discarded his maps; and I put on my back pack, filled with drinks, Halal Haribos, bananas and walking poles. We set off at the walk up through Shortwood Hill Wood, the last climb before Spaniorum Hill.

I made Mark lead the way, because I wanted him to set his own pace at this stage. This set a pattern that lasted through the sixth leg across the fields, around the golf course and along the Frome Walkway to Hambrook. We walked up the road under the motorway but broke back into a jog as we went down Sunnyside Lane to the Old Gloucester Road. We kept going on the surprisingly rural suburban trails through Bradley Stoke to the A38, where Sarah met us next to the Patchway Community College. Mark was getting really tired by this stage, but there was only one leg to go and he could pretty much walk all the way to the finish from here and still beat the record.

In the fields around Easter Compton, Mark was feeling a lot more like walking than running, but I was feeling cold, so I began to jog on ahead, with the intention of looping back for Mark, as is the custom in TACH, but Mark had enough left in the tank to jog on after me. We walked up Spaniorum Hill, as had always been intended, but managed a jog along the ridge and down Berwick Lane. We could now see the woods in the Blaise Estate, so there was a definite lifting of the spirits as we went along the Henbury Trym (or Hazel Brook) through the Churchyard and past Blaise House. Mark was definitely back in front as he jogged the last stretch back to Sarah’s arms in the Blaise car park. My wife Libby was also there to see us in, together with Antony and Jan Clark with their brand new twins.

Mark’s stopwatch showed that he had completed the course in 9 hrs 48 mins and 57 secs, which knocked 1hr 49 mins off Chris Smart’s record.

Doing it anyway (20 miles)

I had arranged a 20-mile training session with a couple of other TACHers, Pete de B and Mike on Sunday, and I was a bit anxious about the state of my knee. But it held up on a shorter 5-mile run from the Inn on the Green on Thursday, so I decided I would give it a go anyway.

So, after a bit of 2-ing and fro-ing, we assembled at the car park at Eastville Park not much more than 1/4 of and hour late for an 8am start. It was 8-25 by the time we were ready to set off into the wind and rain.

The route was the longest one from ‘Out from the Centre’ my first book of routes around Bristol, off-road, on foot, but I thought, as we were running it, it would be better to do it anti-clockwise to avoid the steep climb up to the chimney on Troopers Hill towards the end. Consequently, we set off over the Fishponds Road to take in our first nature reserve by crossing the Royate Hill Viaduct. We crossed the Bristol to Bath Railway Cycle Path, which provides a convenient means of dividing the route into 2 more modest ‘halves’, and made our way by back lanes to St George’s Park. I think I remember a chink in the clouds as we descended the grass past the dog walkers and ducks by the lake and ascended the hill on the other side, making good our intention to take it easy uphill. Across the A420, a terraced road took us to the top of the escarpment above the River Avon, where we followed the contour along a green path to the Troopers Hill Chimney. Unfortunately, the viewpoint only offered a grey prospect with any distant hills obscured by mist. Also, the descent to Crews Hole was little better than the climb would have been due to the slipperiness of the dripping wet steps.

The River Avon was high, but not yet over the footpath. I was reminded of a January run, some years ago, when Dan and Dempster braved the floods on the tow-path, whilst the rest of us took the higher path. We were in no danger of wading ouselves, but we eventually decided to take the higher path through our 3rd nature reserve to avoid the mud and puddles. Actually, there was plenty of mud and puddles on the top path as well, but I suppose it added a bit of variety.

AT the Lock and Weir public house, we noticed that the weir had disappeared under the rising water and the exit from the Chequers car park was obstructed by a small lake. Consequently, we kept to the riverside footpath into the meadows opposite the Cadbury Factory, which had no useful effect, but the meadow grass made a change underfoot.

We began to think about taking on some calories. I had consulted dietician, Sue Baic on Thursday, and she had suggested that I might try squash instead of water, jaffa cake and malt loaf, as well as the usual bananas. So, after we had passed a man with a dog (it is amazing how early dog-walkers seem to have better control over their animals than others) I decided to try a jaffa cake. I have to say I found it a bit cloying in the mouth. It might have been better if I had had water to wash it down instead of squash.

When we reached Londonderry Wharf, our statistician and wearer of the Sat-nav, Pete de B, pronounced that we were making good progress and well on our way to achieving a speed of 6 miles in 1 hour and 10 mins. Pete and I also saw a sparrow hawk at this point, which was attacking a flock of sparrows about 4-feet in front of Mike, who missed it!

We left the river along the Dram Way, which at this point is to be preferred to the Community Forest Path and followed the Siston Brook up past Willsbridge Mill (4th Nature Reserve) to join the Bristol and Bath Railway path alongside the Avon Valley Railway from Bitton. There followed 1500m of tarmac, marked at 100m intervals, which increased our rate of progress to South Way Drive in North Common, where we invested the time we had accumulated in adjusting our packs, removing excess clothing and eating some snacks, as the weather had taken a turn for the better.

We diverted back onto the Dramway Path, which has been much improved on the stretch leading to London Road Warmley and on into Warmley Forest Park (no. 5). We kept to the dramway until it emerged on Siston Common, where we swapped back onto the Community Forest Path, which keeps to the Forest Park. There we passed a small woman struggling with an enormous great dane (muzzled) and a doberman (not).

After Goose Green, we noted the spot, where Chris Smart (Woodwose 1) went astray. I think he was probably misled by the Forest Path sign, which suggests a diagonal right as opposed to a sharp right turn. This is sufficiently ambiguous to attract ones attention to a kissing gate onto the golf course, which is where he went.

We were happy enough to walk up the hill away from the golf course and jogged up under a much more cheerful sky to the Shortwood Hill woodland reserve (no. 6). Form here the route is premoninently downhill, although my legs were beginning to get too tired to appreciate it. I found the descent to the quarry next to Brandy Bottom colliery particularly difficult.

Back on the Dramway Path, we went under the M4 onto grassland, where we were rewarded with good views of roe deer (either 2 or 4, it is hard to say whether we saw the  same pair twice). Round Kendleshire golf course, I was really beginning to hang on at the back, and the situation was not improved on the road section past the Golden Heart, which we opted to take to avoid the probability of a chest high wade along a section of the Frome, which is known to flood frequently.

So we eventually gained the Frome Walkway, which we have often run along before. I was really feeling my legs along this section and the other 2 were getting further and further ahead. The Frome was living up to its name, which means ‘rushing torrent’, but there was only one short section where we had to splash through floodwater on the bank.

Nearly in sight of home, Pete de B was inspired to lead us on a devious alternative route, which led to us getting stuck in an overgrown jungle of a churchyard, but we eventually got back to the car park in about 4 hours.

According to our statistician, the route is not 20-miles, but 21.5. Job done!

This morning, my knee is fine, but the opposite ankle needed an ice pack!

The Green Man

I have just finished a short book about the Green Man by Jane Gardam, illustrated by Mary Fedden and published by The Windrush Press, Gloucestershire in 1998. (ISBN 1 900624 21 4)

It is a beautiful book by an accomplished short story writer, and provides an excellent introduction to the idea of the Green Man for anybody contemplating the Green Man Challenge. Jane Gardam’s idea of the Green Man is not exactly the same as mine, but that is alright, because the Green Man defies and scorns definitions.

A Mendip Reccie

Libby and I had Sunday to ourselves for the first time in a while, so we decided to reccie the route we are running a week on Thursday from the Waldegrave Arms in East Harptree.

It was misty and unpromising when we set out from Bristol, but by the time we got over the Dundry ridge the sun was shining brightly and the autumn colours were glowing along the hedgerows and the Chew Valley Lake was picturesque millpond for the ducks as we drove past. By the time we pulled up between the pub and St Lawrence’s Church, we were beginning to wish we had dressed for the summer.

We were not the only people who thought it was a good day to go out into the country. There were two cars in the car park beside the church and a couple in another car drove up as we were setting off down the oath beside the church.

The first stretch through the fields behind the church was unknown to me, but straightforward enough as was the stretch down to the stream, but the section up the stream proved very treacherous underfoot. It should be very interesting at night!

The route becomes very steep after we crossed a road into some grazing land, but we easily overhauled a man, who appeared to be taking his border collie out for a game of tennis. At the top of the climb, we passed some cows with calfs, thankfully well before the collie arrived. A short climb took us up to a cornish chimney left over from a lead recovering operation. It has been preserved because it is the last of its kind in the area apparently.

After the chimney, things got very interesting and we took a couple of wrong turns before we found the correct route through the trees. We were very grateful to see daylight as we came out into the fields. It is a good job we checked the route out as it would have been tricky finding the route in the dark!

Out in the open, we negotiated a path past the overexcitable cows, which seem to be a feature of these fields.  The next stretch was reasonably level, with no more menacing hazard than a flock of sheep. We passed a mother and two daughters, who did not acknowledge our greetings and began the descent to the pub.

The first few fields are level, and the route follows a broad headland. The grass is a little rough, but by no means rough enough to trip any one up (famous last words!) The distant views were pleasant enough, but there was still a bit of residual mist in the distance, which diminished their splendour. The descent down Greenbatch Lane was delightful, however, due to the colour of the leaves crowding in overhead. It was a little muddy underfoot at the top and rocky at the bottom, where we bumped into the couple we had met at the church. As we sedscended the road and through some splendid grassy fields, Libby recalled what a slog it had been following this part of the route in the opposite direction.

We got back to the pub without incident, except for a few motorbikes, some children on a death wire and a couple of skittish horses. As we wer changing, the man with the dog arrived back at his car and exchanged a few words.

Afterwards, Libby and I enjoyed the best Sunday lunch we had had for a long time. The beef was rare, the Yorkshires crispy and filled with fresh herbs and the vegetables was freshly cooked and delightful. My pint of Exmoor Bitter was in very good heart, and I finished off with an excellent sweet of hot bananas and ice cream with blackberries. We are looking forward to returning a week on Thursday!